Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(20)

“Well, yes.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You may have been following orders, but you didn’t pause overly long and it wasn’t too bumpy of a ride. I didn’t even get sick along the way. For that, I have you to thank. Not your masters.”

His face twisted in confusion. “You are a strange human.”

“You're not the first to say that. Oh,” she shook her head. “I almost forgot.”

Sorcha reached into her pocket and pulled out a small jar of honey she had neglected to leave at the shrine. In the rush to leave her home, she hadn’t put it back in the kitchen where it belonged.

Now, the golden liquid felt wrong to keep. She held it out to the dullahan with a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He held the jar close to his waist for his real eyes to look at.

“I don’t know. It’s a gift. Do you like honey?”

“I’m not the kind of Fae that likes honey.”

“Then gift it to another, or enjoy it on your morning bread.” Sorcha shrugged. “It matters little to me.”

She walked past him, but noted the strange expression on his face. If she didn’t know any better, Sorcha would have thought he was wistfully inspecting her gift. The dullahan weren’t known for their kindness. They announced death to all those who crossed their paths and cracked whips made of human spines.

Perhaps he’d never received a gift, she thought as she glanced over her shoulder.

Sorcha lifted the hag stone to her eye as he turned the carriage around. The candles still flickered inside, skulls grinning in decoration, the beautiful wood fading to stretched skin. Creaking wheels revealed human thigh bones spinning round. And the dullahan himself, head seated in his lap with lips stretching from ear to ear, was staring back at her.

She lifted her hand in farewell just to have the satisfaction of seeing his confusion one last time.

The crowd swelled around her. People from all walks of life wandered the docks this afternoon. They drifted through the waves of people as a boat surfed upon the waves.

Colors and sound assaulted her senses. Vibrantly colored women called out to her, men shouted in the distance to raise the sails and hoist the anchors. A fish flopped on the ground where a woman hammered its head until it stopped moving. She moved onto the next while another sliced open its belly.

Her stomach lurched. Turning away from that side of the street, Sorcha struggled to make it to the docks. That was where she would find the captain. It had to be.

“Excuse me, sir?” she touched a man’s shoulder. “Where might I find a ship with a yellow belly?”

“Why are you asking me?” he looked her up and down. “I don’t give out charity to the likes of you.”

“Charity?” Her mouth gaped open as he walked away from her.

Sorcha tried many times to find someone who could point her in the right direction. Women tried to hire her for work, men mostly ignored her as if she didn’t exist. One man even made her stand in front of him and shout to get his attention.

None of them wanted to point her towards a ship marked as the dullahan had claimed. Did it not exist? She wanted to stand on a railing and scream. Someone in this gods forsaken port town must know where a ship with a yellow belly was!

The sun dipped low on the horizon and Sorcha gave up.

Weary and discouraged, she sat on the last dock and let her legs swing above the water. Her pack hit the wooden planks with a loud thunk.

“I just want to find a ship with a yellow belly,” she moaned. She slumped forward and held her head in her hands. “It can’t be that hard to find!”

But it was. No one wanted to help her. Everyone’s eyes were suspicious, and they thought the worst of her without asking who she was, why she was here, what purpose she had in life. Why would people do that?

Her small sheltered town seemed so far away. Its people were backwards and dimwitted, but they were kind. She missed it already, and it hadn’t even been a full day.

Sorcha sighed and tugged on her hair. “You can’t give up Sorcha. Too many people are relying on you.”

She couldn’t force herself to move. Her legs were aching from walking the docks all day. Pinpricks danced across her shoulders and spine from the heavy weight of her pack. Blisters seared the bottoms of her feet.

She might want to continue, but her body was telling her no. There was no possible way for her to get up and keep going, and she hadn’t even found a place to sleep.

“A stunning thing like you must charge a pretty penny for a night.”

“Far too much for you,” she retorted without thinking. Sorcha grimaced and glanced up at the sailor staring down at her.

Dark hair and eyes blended into the night sky. A full beard masked most of his expression, although the gleam of teeth suggested he might be smiling. Dreadlocks pulled the rest of his hair away from his face.

His broad shoulders and chest were bare, and she imagined he was quite cold. A pelt of hair covered him from neck to dark pants. He wasn’t wearing any shoes.

Sorcha’s lips pursed. “Far too expensive.”

“I wouldn’t judge a book by its cover, sweet thing. Just how badly do you want somewhere warm to sleep?”

“Not that bad.” She jerked her pack to her side. “In fact, I’ll go find a place myself. Thank you for reminding me it’s growing dark.”